Vires
by thousand-miles
Summary: PoI fic. Alex helps Bobby through a tough time.


**Title: Vires** (Strength)

**Author:** Geena

**Rating:** K+ (used to be PG)

**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me. It's just for fun.

**Summary:** A PoI fic. Alex helps Bobby through a tough time.

**Spoilers**: Person of Interest

**A/N:** Watching PoI I just loved it and to me it called for a fic. This fic was quite the struggle and I sometimes doubted Bobby and Alex were still in character, but I think that went all right. Thanks to Heather for her terrific beta skills.

**Vires**

I've never seen him looking so lost before. In a way it scares me. Before me stands a man who's just a shadow of who he really is. I don't see a tall, confident detective; I see a scared little boy, who needs someone to be strong for him, someone to bring him back. I think this is the first time during our partnership that he really needs me. Me…not someone, not something else, no he needs me. Bobby's a person who tries very hard to not need anyone in his life, afraid of the feeling of loss when that person walks away. It's the story of his life and he tries hard to protect himself from letting that happen again. But now, it's clear, he needs me. He trusts me to bring him back, to bring some of the light back in his eyes.

I'm at a complete loss of words when I hear the helplessness in his voice. "She...she picked a man I already didn't trust, didn't respect. She blindsided me."

Hearing the hurt in his voice, I get mad, mad at Nicole. How could she do this to him? She's a sick woman playing this kind of game. He doesn't deserve this. Before I can say anything he looks at me. I've never seen his eyes filled with so much pain and sadness. I resist the urge to take him into my arms. I know he wouldn't like that, I know this is not the right time or place.

"She picked a man like my father. She…she got me good."

And this is my chance, my chance to support him. I put all my faith in my words, knowing he would hear it. "Then lets get her back."

I leave the interrogation room to grab my things before returning to Bobby. I need to get him to go with me. He needs to rest before he can be back on his game. Returning to the interrogation room I find him exactly like before. His hands leaning against the two-way mirror, his head hung low. "Let's go, Bobby." I say softly.

He looks at me again. He needs me to guide him right now. I hand him his coat and wait for him to follow me. With his eyes downcast, he does. The ride back to my apartment is quiet.

In my apartment he immediately walks to the couch and sits down. I leave him alone and start to make some coffee. I think about my course of action. This is new to me. I know I have to tread carefully. I need to let him know he can count on me. I need him to trust me enough to talk. Deciding that a little distance would be good for now I place his mug on the coffee table and sit down in the chair to his right. With his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, he looks defeated.

It takes me a moment before I find the right way to start the conversation. "I thought he was guilty too. All the evidence pointed to him. You couldn't have known."

"I should have." He keeps blaming himself.

"No, you shouldn't have. As good as you are, Bobby, you couldn't have seen this coming."

"I should have." Raising his voice, he stands up and starts pacing. "I put so much pressure on him. I…I wasn't objective. I didn't want to see the truth!"

"What truth, Bobby? That he was a good man? That he wasn't a suspect? You know that's bull! He was a viable suspect. Don't put this all on yourself. We're a team here, okay! I thought he did it too. Don't…don't do this to yourself!"

His hands are gesturing madly. "How can I not? I should have seen it!" He shouts at me.

"Stop it!" I shout back as he continues to pace around my living room, his arms and hands ceaselessly moving. My shout, however, has its effect. He stops immediately, his eyes settle on me for the first time since we arrived here. I need to get him to stop blaming himself. I walk up to him. Stopping right in front of him, I feel his body heat. He needs to calm down. I take his hand and lead him back to the couch.

Sitting close together, I keep his hand in mine. "Listen to me, okay?" I say softly, hoping my voice will calm him down. His response is a squeeze of my hand. Good, at least that's something. "I know you blame yourself, but it was as much my fault as it was yours." I see that he wants to interrupt me, but I won't let him. "No, Bobby, I need you to hear me out. If I had a doubt in my mind Croyden hadn't done it I would have said so. But I didn't say anything because I thought he had. He was a good suspect. I need you to believe me when I say you couldn't have seen it." I look at his profile; his head hung low, his eyes on our joined hands. I want to ask him about his father, but I don't know how to broach the subject. However Bobby surprises me when he starts talking.

"I..I blamed my mother when he left. I blamed her for him leaving us. She didn't deserve that." He leans back, his head against the back of the couch. He keeps my hand in his as if he needs the connection. "My...father, he...euuh...he got around. He wasn't the man I thought he was back then. When I was young I thought he was savvy, I wanted to be like him." He shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment. "God, he was such a bastard. After he left, I hated him for what he'd done to my mother. She was sick, she needed his help."

He hasn't said it yet, but I'm sure he's mad that he got stuck with the care of his mother, though he would never admit it. He carried a burden that was simply too heavy for a young boy. A burden that affectedhis life.

I'm not sure if what I'm going to say is a good idea. "You're mad that he left you to take care of her, mad that you couldn't live your life. You always had to look after her, always had to consider what your actions meant to her." My voice is soft, making it clear that I'm not mad or accusing him. "Sometimes you even wished he'd taken you with him, or that you could be free, like him." I know that thought has crossed his mind at one time or another and that leaves him with an enormous feeling of guilt. A guilt he doesn't know how to deal with.

People always say that Goren is the psychologist of the two of us, the one who can get inside a person's head, but I'm not as clueless as some may think. I've learned from watching Bobby. More importantly, I know Bobby.

With a small, almost invisible nod he admits I'm right. Now I need to reassure him that his thoughts had been understandable. Looking at how my little hand gets lost in his bigger one, I link our fingers. "You were young, Bobby. You had a weight on your shoulder even an adult would have had trouble carrying. There was nothing wrong with how you felt." Feeling and seeing him tense, I know I've said the wrong thing.

"I blamed my mother for something she had no control over. I blamed her! I was no better than my father." I hear the pain of the admission in his voice.

"Don't say that. I see how much you care for your mother. You call her every day, you visit her every weekend. Don't say you're no better than your father. You're a good man, Bobby. You love your mother. You take care of her. You would never leave her alone, it's not the man that you are." Suddenly a new thought hits me. Is he afraid of turning into his father? Could that be another reason why he avoids relationships?

"I despise him. I despise what he did to us." His voice is once again filled with disgust.

"I know you do."

There's a silence between us again. Just as I'm about to grab my coffee mug, I feel a small pull on my arm. I look at Bobby to see his intentions, but he averts his eyes. He, however, keeps his hold on my arm and pulls me to him. He lets go of my hand, laying his arm around my shoulder, pressing me to his side. I'm surprised at first, but quickly relax, laying my head on his shoulder. His right hand seeks my left again, linking our fingers. I don't want to admit it, but I like this. I like the feeling of being surrounded by Bobby's body warmth. I feel he's still tense, there's still something on his mind.

"What is it, Bobby?"

"What if I turn into him?" This is what truly frightens him.

"You won't, you're nothing like him." I try to reassure him.

"How…how can you be so sure?"

"Because you're still here."

Another silence falls between us. I guess he's thinking about my words, contemplating if I'm right.

"I don't ever want to turn into him. He's…. I want to be more than that."

"You are, Bobby, you are." I squeeze his hand, hoping to convince him.

"I don't know what's worse, turning into my mother or my father. The chances are fifty-fifty. Either way, it doesn't look good for me." His voice sound bitter, but I know it's a true fear.

"If I, just like my mother, lose my connection to the world…I wouldn't know what to do. At least she has someone who takes care of her, who visits and calls. I…I don't have anyone." Letting go of my hand, he rubs his hand over his face. "I never let someone get close enough. Why should I? They're going to get involved with someone who's either going to leave them or going to go insane. The odds aren't in my favour." His voice is now a mere whisper.

"That's not true, Bobby." I never expected he would admit his fear. Feeling him shift, I straighten up, looking into his eyes. He seems to be searching for something in my eyes, but I don't know what it is. I decide not to wait for his reaction and continue. "I know you're afraid of what might happen in the future, but you can't let that hold you back. When someone really loves you, she won't just leave you alone like that. She won't turn away because you might…" I need to choose my words carefully. "..get sick. You've got to give someone the chance to love you. You've got to let someone in, let someone love you."

I look at him and he holds my gaze. His eyes are so soft, full of questions and doubts. He raises his hand to my cheek. I slightly lean into his hand, closing my eyes for a moment before opening them again. His eyes are still on me.

"Will you give me a chance?" His voice trembles. With those words, he voices his true feelings, without giving enough away to be hurt if I reject him.

Raising my own hand, to touch his rough cheek, I keep my eyes on him. "Yes." I whisper before letting my hand wander to the back of his neck. I gently pull him closer until our foreheads touch. "I will, Bobby."

Without truly realizing it, I'm suddenly in Bobby's strong embrace, his arms encircling me. He's holding me close; my head is against his chest, as my arms encircle his waist. "Thank you." He whispers, resting his head on top of mine.

Never has it felt so good to be in a man's arms, to be completely engulfed by his entire being. I feel safe, safer than I've ever felt before. By the way he relaxes against me I think he feels it too. It feels right, it's as simple as that.

I don't know how long we sit here, holding each other, but I don't mind. It feels good. Tightening his hold on me he shifts. I feel him taking a deep breath. "I don't know if I can face her alone."

"You don't have, I'll be there every step along the way."

"If you don't want to…I...I'd understand." His hesitation is back.

I lean back, my hand cupping his cheek again. "I want to. You're not alone, Bobby." I gently kiss him on the lips, reassuring him that I'm not going anywhere. The emotional and physical exhaustion of the whole day finally catches up with me. I'm tired and I'm pretty sure Bobby's exhausted. Leaving his warm embrace I stand up. He looks at me expectantly. I reach out my hand, waiting for him to grab it. He does and gets up, standing next to me.

"Lets go to bed." And I lead him to my bedroom, turning off the lights to my living room.

The End


End file.
